


Four Days That the War Stopped

by Seabirdsong



Series: Cullenites Prompt Fills [1]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: F/M, Fluff, New Relationship, Prompt Fill, nursing back to health, sfw
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-21
Updated: 2016-03-21
Packaged: 2018-05-28 05:11:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,143
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6316003
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Seabirdsong/pseuds/Seabirdsong
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This is a prompt fill for the Cullenites group. My prompt was "Inquisitor nurses Cullen through an injury".</p>
            </blockquote>





	Four Days That the War Stopped

The sounds of Skyhold receded behind a wall of white noise. Everywhere Evelyn looked, mouths were moving, people were smiling, the day was continuing normally. And it had been a regular day for her too, full of plans and consulting maps, reading reports and prioritizing preparations for their trip to the Exalted Plains. The sun was shining, bright and warm, with a soft breeze that felt like a loving touch directly from the Maker. A normal day at Skyhold, made all the more beautiful by the memory of Cullen’s lips upon hers.

Still so new as to be surreal, she’d nearly forgotten all about the breach in the week since the first kiss. She’d grinned her way through meetings, fighting to keep her focus on Leliana and Josie’s reports, imploring her eyes to stop straying tellingly over to Cullen’s. For most of her days since she’d felt as though she was floating.

Until Jim had approached her in the Great Hall. Pale faced and breathless, he’d uttered those heart-stopping words.

_“Inquisitor… Commander Cullen has been hurt.”_

 

The world had frozen into place for a moment. The constant, excited chatter of the Great Hall was immediately squelched, drowned out by the roar of the blood now crashing through her ears. Jim hadn’t offered any further explanation, only turned and beckoned her to follow him, which made her blood run even colder. It could only mean there was no time to spare, even for the briefest of explanations.

Immediately the cheerful people filling the hall were nothing more than obstacles in her path to the door. That bright, shining sun outside now an unwanted spotlight that obscured her vision. The birdsong in the courtyard blared loud, too loud for her to hear anything over it. Every sense she possessed seemed heightened, stretching and searching for the scene of the accident.

At least, she assumed it was an accident.

If someone had hurt Cullen _on purpose…_

 

She could hardly finish her thought for the rage that began to swell in her chest. But no, she shook the thought away. Who within Skyhold would be so foolish? Surrounded by his own army? Within his own stronghold, one ran by a woman who would do anything — _anything_ — to keep her loved ones safe.

Her steps quickened until she was nearly pushing at Jim’s back, urging him to move faster. He passed under the bridge to the lower courtyard, rounding a corner to reveal a cluster of bodies standing hushed and still near some scaffolding. Repairs at Skyhold had been moving swiftly, with many of the rooms now set up and functional, but there were still numerous areas of crumbling stone that needed work. Evelyn’s heart jumped into her throat as she sprinted forward, pushing through the circle of people to the clearing at the center.

“Cullen!” she gasped, dropping to her knees. The sight before her was one she’d been fearing since Haven, plucked from her nightmares and deposited in the light of day before her.

Cullen seemed lost to the world. His hands lay limp at his sides, eyelids resting peacefully closed while a wet stream of crimson streamed from his his temple and dripped around his ear. A low, anguished groan barely audible from his throat. Blackwall was behind him, his hands lost within the lush pauldron fur as he propped the Commander partially upright and peered down at his bloodied scalp. Chunks of aged stone littered the ground around them.

The fire in her blood died back, but not completely. What remained changed directions with the wind. She eyed the scaffolding platform, propped up before the obvious source of the fallen stones.

“Was someone up there working?” she demanded, reminding herself not to start throwing around accusations just yet.

“No, Ser,” answered Blackwall. “The workers are in the kitchen taking their lunch.”

Evelyn huffed a frustrated sigh. Someone to blame would at least give her an outlet for her fear. As it was she certainly couldn’t start raging against the Skyhold wall, at least not without bringing more rocks down upon them all. She took a deep breath and picked up Cullen’s hand, scooting in closer to his face. He was still making sounds, but they were disconcertingly quiet and unintelligible. Her chest swelled to the point of pain. This was not how she’d ever hoped to see him, and she was certain it was not how he would want to be seen by the general population.

“Isn’t there a bloody healer in this place!?” The shrill note in Evelyn’s voice made her wince. The faces of the crowd around her were staring down at her with concern, clearly registering her barely controlled panic. She took another deep breath.

“Not at the moment, Ser,” said Jim. “We’ve had a hard time recruiting them, since most of the mages with that specialty are holed up with the rebellion. We’ve called for the surgeon. She should be here any moment.”

Evelyn sighed.

“Cullen?” she asked gently. His head rolled toward her and his eyelids fluttered, but didn’t open. Her new lover, the object of her nearly immediate infatuation. He’d always been so strong, so confident and in control. She’d never imagined seeing him look so out of it and helpless. At least not because of some… some bloody _wall reconstruction._ His brows furrowed and lips parted, but no more sounds emerged. Evelyn held her breath and waited, heart still blaring in her ears. He seemed to be trying to push through, to bring himself back to full consciousness. She squeezed his hand. Warm and dry, it flinched slightly at her grip. She needed to get him out of there. He would not be pleased to wake and find himself at the center of a gawking crowd.

Evelyn stood and eyed the crowd for a few men who looked like they could handle the order she was about to issue. Nearest to the wall stood three warriors in chainmail and plate. She nodded to them and tried to keep her voice steady.

“Take Cullen to my quarters immediately, and send the surgeon there as soon as she makes an appearance. Tell her I don’t appreciate her dawdling when our Commander is injured.”

 _"Your_ quarters, Ser?” Blackwall asked with a raised eyebrow. It was true that most in Skyhold still were not aware of the burgeoning relationship between her and Cullen, but she had no plans on letting Cullen out of her sight until he was healed, regardless of what anyone else might think.

“Do you truly think you can haul him up the ladder to his own, Blackwall?” Evelyn asked, her tone firm. “He needs to go somewhere, and I will not have him laid out in one of the surgeon’s tents. I don’t mind finding somewhere else to sleep in the meantime.”

Blackwall gave an obedient nod and waved the three warriors over.

  
  
  
  
  


Evenlyn paced the room as she waited for the surgeon to finish up the stitches on Cullen’s scalp. Cassandra radiated an aura of quiet concern as she stood sentry near the bed, her arms crossed unhappily over her chest. Evelyn had confided her feelings for Cullen to Cassandra long before she finally confessed them to Cullen himself, and though she had earnestly approved of Evelyn talking to him, she too seemed decidedly unhappy about Evelyn’s orders.

“The Commander might not be pleased with this decision either,” she’d warned Evelyn. “He prefers his personal matters to remain private. This move might be too revealing for his comfort.”

Evelyn had sighed obstinately, but Cassandra’s words ignited an unignorable flicker of worry. The last thing she wanted was for Cullen to wake and be unhappy with her decision. But… no, actually the last thing she wanted was for Cullen not to wake. Or for him to wake surrounded by strangers and not know that she’d been by his side every moment.

It was too late now anyway. He was already in her bed, and she did not want those men parading Cullen through the Great Hall again. It had already made more of a scene than she’d preferred. Evelyn set her jaw.

“My concern for his safety trumps my concern for our privacy.”

“And you think he is _safer_ here in your quarters than he would be anywhere else?”

Evelyn rolled her eyes. “So, what, you would have me evict someone else from _their_ quarters until Cullen is well? How is that fair, when I am perfectly willing to give up mine?” she asked. Cassandra’s warning had hit its mark, but Evelyn tried not to let it show. “Besides, people will probably talk no matter what we do.”

“Near the surgeon would have been my choice. Cullen is no stranger to sleeping in tents, Inquisitor. He would understand the situation.”

Evelyn paced to the glass doors that opened up to the balcony and peered out into the Skyhold courtyard below. There were so many people flocking to the Inquisition now. The hallways, courtyards and common spaces were filled with milling, gossiping bodies at nearly all hours. Where else could she take him that would provide the peace and quiet he’d need to rest? Feeling her resolve strengthened, she returned to Cassandra’s side.

“It doesn’t need to be common knowledge that he’s here,” she said, using her Inquisitor tone that implied she was not making a suggestion, but giving an order. “I mean among those who didn’t see… but even so, it’s better this way anyway. You know he will not want a constant procession of visitors to see him in this state, and it’s better for him to be able to rest without being bothered. I don’t know how anyone could rest out there in those tents. With people talking, working and training only feet away?”

Evelyn paused, looking down at Cullen again. He looked so peaceful there, even as the surgeon sat at the bedside, laying bandages and dabbing at a second gash on his shoulder.

“My quarters are _quiet,_ and everyone knows not to enter without my permission. It’s the most private place available for him,” Evelyn finished, feeling pleased with her justification. “Like I said, I’ll sleep elsewhere.”

Cassandra huffed, but it sounded like a reluctant admission.

“So if we are to keep quiet that Cullen is in your quarters, what excuse are we to use for you not using your own?”

Evelyn opened her mouth to answer, but couldn’t think of anything to say. She shrugged.

“That’s not really anyone’s business, is it?”

Cassandra huffed again but said nothing more.

 

Evelyn eyed the equipment as the surgeon loaded it back into her bag. Scalpels, gauze, tinctures and vials, needles, thread, a thimble — practically a full on sewing kit. At least everything looked clean and well organized. The surgeon zipped her bag and stood to face the waiting ladies.

“Well, he’s got a concussion and twenty stitches in his scalp. Those will need to be cleaned at least twice a day, his bandages changed every six to eight hours. There’s a fair bit of bruising on his shoulder that will only get darker before it starts to heal and will probably give him a bit of pain. When he’s awake I’ll need to come see him again. It’s possible that there might be some impacts to his spine, since it absorbed just as much of the impact of the debris as his head. He is under strict orders to remain in bed until I can at least assess the possibility of spinal injury,” the surgeon said. She was curt, and to the point. She nodded and turned to descend the stairs without waiting for a thank you.

“How long do you think he’ll be out of commission?” Cassandra called over the railing.

“For however long he needs,” came the quick reply. The inner door creaked closed, leaving the room quiet.

Evelyn quickly returned to Cullen’s bedside, lowering herself onto the empty half of the bed and letting her eyes take in the worrying vision before her. Even in his unconsciousness he still looked powerful. The strong brow and angled jaw were the epitome of masculinity, enhanced by that constant layer of stubble and the brutally beautiful scar cutting through his lip. Evelyn sighed, secretly grateful for the moment to observe him up close. How many hours had she spent admiring him from afar? Studying his varying expressions, how his moods could be determined by how tightly drawn he kept his brows. They spent what time they could together now, but it was a constant struggle not to stare.

Evelyn couldn’t help but feel the familiar pull to his lips. Since Cassandra already knew anyway, Evelyn didn’t stop herself from leaning in to give him a light kiss. She was sure she felt a flicker of response from him, a slight hitch in his deep breathing that signaled some small degree of awareness, same as when she’d squeezed his hand earlier.

 

His armor and tunic had been removed so that the surgeon could inspect his shoulder, which had taken a blow from the rock after it had glanced off his head. There were bandages over a gash and a purple blush spreading over the muscle. The surgeon had only cleaned the area where she’d sewed his scalp back together, leaving brownish-red streaks dried down his cheek and crusted in his hair.

“Aren’t people with concussions not supposed to sleep?” Evelyn asked as Cassandra came around to the other side of the bed and pulled a chair close.

“That was my understanding. But I am not medic.”

Evelyn sighed again. A pure physical injury was one thing. Cullen had endured many cuts and gashes in his life, and had the scars to prove it. But a possible brain injury? His loss of consciousness instilled a deep note of disquiet that prickled at Evelyn’s nerves. And the surgeon’s lack of bedside manner hadn’t done much to reassure her. Though she had said “when he’s awake” and not “if he wakes”. She supposed that would have to do until Cullen woke and could speak for himself.

“You might want to begin considering an alternate location for him to continue his recovery if he’s not well in a week,” Cassandra said.

“And why would he need an alternate location?” Evelyn asked, feeling slightly annoyed. She knew Cassandra couldn’t help but offer advice, but this was not a matter of war, or the breach.

“Because we are to leave to the Exalted Marches in eight days, Inquisitor,” Cassandra reminded her.

“No. If he is still not well, then I won’t be going anywhere. The Exalted Plains will wait.”

Cassandra snorted. “Well, what if it doesn’t?”

“It will. Besides, we will need Cullen’s assistance for that trip. It doesn’t do us any good to show up in such a place without a full contingent of backup at the ready. Have you read the reports of the enemies we will face there? Harding’s last letter spoke of demons, throngs of walking corpses and apparently a standing army called the Freemen. Cullen’s health and ability to command is just as necessary for this trip as my presence.”

Cassandra was quiet for a long moment.

“Well,” she answered. “For all we know Cullen might be fine by then. I don’t believe he will want to be confined to bed at all if he is capable of moving around. It is more likely that he will want to be up and back to work as soon as possible, even if it’s against surgeon’s orders.”

Evelyn had to admit that was right. She could certainly picture Cullen trying to mend his wounded pride. It was possible that might make him a stubborn patient, downplaying his injuries and overselling his capabilities.

“All the more reason to stay. If the surgeon says he needs to continue to rest, then we must make sure he gets it. At least so that he doesn’t just make his injuries worse.”

Evelyn sighed and dropped her head into her hands, rubbing hard at her temple.

“I will not be going anywhere until I am fully convinced that he is well, regardless of what he says on the matter.”

 

“You speak of me as though I’m a child,” came an annoyed voice. Evelyn was at attention immediately, turning back to Cullen. His eyes were still closed, but he was frowning in that way that made his nostrils flare a little. He tried to raise his injured arm, but winced and then lowered it again. “Funny, I assumed that as an advisor and Commander of your army that you trusted my judgment.”

“Cullen…” Evelyn began, her brief joy floundering at the irritation in his voice. Immediately Evelyn wanted to bang her head against the wall. She’d never meant to insult him.

“Cullen, no… it’s just that… I don’t want you to try to take on too much, too fast. We don’t even know the extent of your injuries yet…”

His eyes fluttered open, revealing vivid caramel irises that never failed to cut straight through her. He glanced around the room for a moment, taking in his location but giving no indication of his reaction, and then sweeping over to Cassandra. Evelyn’s heart raced as she waited. Would he be upset that he’d been taken to the Inquisitor’s room? Had she truly just outed them to the whole of Skyhold by that decision? It was so early in their relationship still… could it even be _called_ a relationship after only a week?

Maker, it was too soon, wasn’t it? Cassandra was right, she should have taken him somewhere else. What would he think she was implying by bringing him here? Maybe he’d take it as an overstep, something he wasn’t ready for yet…

Maybe… Evelyn took another breath and closed her eyes. No, Cullen had always been very gracious to her. He’d welcomed all her advances, had kissed her so passionately that first time. He’d even seemed to get pretty nervous himself, stuttering a little, blushing, his hands getting shaky and a little sweaty. The strong, confident Commander was so different when they were alone. He was always so sweet, so encouraging. Was there really any need to doubt herself now?

Tentatively, she reached for the hand of his uninjured arm, sliding her palm gently against his. His eyes flickered back to her, seeming to soften as they took in her expression. Varric had recently commented on how she was a rather poor Wicked Grace player, claiming he could tell everything he needed to know about her hand of cards just by looking at her face. _“At least_ try _to make it a challenge for me,_ ” he’d laughed.

Evelyn sighed worriedly. She was all in on this particular hand. It was too soon to admit to him how intense her feelings for him were, how strong they’d been since almost the day they’d met. She’d waited so long, watching him quietly as he trained his soldiers in Haven, painfully aware of his presence at the war table, constantly replaying the way he’d looked at her when she told him she was glad he made it safely out of Haven. She’d been trying to muster up the courage to make a move for _months_. It was Cassandra’s reassurance, even urging, that had finally given her the confidence to say something. So far they’d only shared the daily necking sessions on the battlements, plus a few dinners, a stroll through the garden when they could find the time.

If she’d angered or disappointed him already, she wasn’t quite sure how she was going to recover.

Cullen squeezed her hand, his watchful eyes registering something, seeming to try to offer some quiet reassurance.

“What happened?” he asked as his lids fell closed again. He winced as he tried to turn his head.

“You got very unlucky,” Cassandra began. “It appears you were in just the right spot to get hit by a chunk of falling rock from the Southeast tower.”

“Maker’s breath,” he sighed. He released her hand and patted gently at the gauze covering the stitches on his scalp. He hissed as a small dot of fresh blood appeared where his fingers had pressed. Evelyn moved in closer. Maker, the only thing she truly wanted to do was pull him into her arms and hold him.

The room fell quiet again, with only the sounds of the breeze at the window and the shifting of waiting bodies.

“Well,” Cassandra sighed as she stood, beginning to retreat toward the stairs. “I suppose I shall go inform the surgeon that he is awake.”

“Not yet,” Evelyn called, desperate for at least a few private moments with him first. “I mean… give us an hour, at least.”

With a nod, Cass disappeared toward the door.

 

Evelyn took his hand again, feeling him immediately respond to her touch. He opened his eyes and offered a weak smile.

“Imagine my surprise to just be going about my day as per usual… and then suddenly I wake up in the Inquisitor’s bed.”

Evelyn laughed. “I know, I’m sorry. If you absolutely don’t want to stay here we can find you some place else…” she said, feeling the tension begin to drain in small increments out of her shoulders. “But we certainly weren’t getting you up your ladder. And it’s quiet here. Private.”

“But… he paused for a moment, his eyes searching hers. “I’m sure getting me here wasn’t exactly without notice, was it?”

Evelyn braced herself. The cold fingers of anxiety tightened its grip on her throat. She swallowed hard and answered. “Well… no.”

Cullen gave a small nod, and then glanced around the room again, seeming to be taking stock of the appointments, his eyes landing on his pile of clothes in the far corner of the room.

“I’m sorry, Cullen. Cass warned me that you wouldn’t be happy with… with what this would say to every one else. I mean, I don’t care what anyone else says personally, but if _you_ care… then I will make it right. I promise.”

Cullen’s lip curled into a grin. He snorted a quiet laugh and squeezed her hand.

“There was already talk in the barracks even before this,” he said with a quiet laugh. “It turns out the battlements aren’t exactly private either. And anyway I’m afraid that people will find something to talk about no matter what we do. You’d think our army was composed of a bunch of teenaged girls.”

“Still… I could find you some place else.”

Cullen winced again as he moved to adjust his position.

“Not now. I don’t think I’m up for a move just yet,” he said. Evelyn felt a wave of tension draining out of her. He might have preferred someplace else, but at least he wasn’t _unhappy._ Or perhaps he was still too out of it to really care yet. Perhaps when he was more lucid, able to consider the deeper implications, things might be different. Perhaps she really should try to locate a backup bed for him, just in case he came to again and wanted to recover someplace more… appropriate.

Evelyn watched him quietly, trying to read behind his eyes and into his thoughts. Perhaps he was simply too kind to say the things he was really thinking.

But that didn’t seem to be much. Already his eyelids were drooping again, falling closed almost as though he couldn’t help it. Evelyn frowned as she settled herself back against the pillow bedside him. Had the surgeon given him something to make him sleepy, or was this all the head injury? He’d woken though, and wasn’t acting strange or disoriented. There was nothing in his speech to indicate a reason to worry. But she had no way to know for sure. She was not a medic either.

 

Evelyn pulled his hand into her lap and traced the lines of his palm with her fingertips. Slowly, his breathing deepened, even developing the occasional grumble of a light snore. She raised his hand up to kiss his knuckles, and felt herself growing sleepy too as she inspected his peacefully slumbering face. She supposed she should be grateful that he wasn’t in so much pain that he was unable to sleep.

Evelyn was tired too, her nerves finally winding down now that the immediate danger seemed to have passed. She felt the urge of her body to nap, but instead, as had always been the case, she couldn’t stop looking at him. There was no question he was a handsome man. Tall and muscular, he had a regal bearing that was only enhanced by his full pauldron and the rich red and black of his uniform. His pale skin was dusted with equally pale freckles, and his lashes appeared unnaturally long as they rested against his cheek. When he smiled it and his eyes lit up, it was like looking directly into the sun. The first few times she’d made him laugh he’d nearly blinded her, leaving her bewildered and disoriented, stuttering for some kind of follow up that didn’t leave her sounding like a fool. He didn’t have Dorian’s polished flashiness, nor did he have Solas’ mysterious intensity. But he was the kind of man whose beauty only grew the more she got to know him.

Not that that had been the only appeal. When she’d admitted her admiration for their Commander to Cassandra, she’d struggled to explain that it was more than just a crush. She’d felt something profound in her attraction to him, something that had been present almost right away. It was more than just an amorous curiosity about a beautiful face and a warrior’s sculpted body. It was a calling in her soul, something that whispered that this new connection she’d made, this relationship she was building was… special, and unspeakably so. Cullen was _it._ He was the end of her wondering what her life was going to bring her, the end of the search she hadn’t even been aware she was conducting.

  


Evelyn jumped awake when she heard the door to her room opening, carrying with it the lowered voices of Cassandra and the surgeon. She looked quickly toward Cullen and was surprised to see his eyes opened, and already trained quietly on her.

She felt her cheeks grown warm as she realized he’d been watching her sleep.

  


She’d spent the evening as Cullen’s personal courier, running down to the kitchens to retrieve a plate of stew and to refill a pitcher of water again and again. She’d cleaned his dried blood off his cheek, and fetched him a fresh pair of nightclothes. After he’d developed a pounding headache she’d found the surgeon again and insisted she be taught how to mix and dose out the herbal concoction that served as a pain killer, so she could keep a supply in her quarters for whenever Cullen needed it. She’d spent an unenthusiastic late night hour wandering through Skyhold to find a place to sleep herself, but her heart wasn’t in any of the few available options. Skyhold housed so many visitors now that nearly every room was occupied by boarders already. In the end she decided she’d sleep on the sofa in her quarters anyway, so that she’d be present if Cullen needed anything in the night. She ended up not on the couch, but drifting off beside him again, her hand tucked tightly into his, her head resting lightly on his good shoulder.

He’d told the surgeon that despite the pain in his back, he didn’t have any trouble moving, and felt no numbness or unusual sensations in any of his extremities. The surgeon delivered a hopeful prognosis. Just a few days of rest should be all that was needed, or however many until Cullen’s pain subsided, followed by nothing more strenuous than light activity with regular breaks.

 

Day 2 brought rain clouds, which left her quarters dark despite every window being thrown open. Even with the sleepy gloom, Cullen woke early, groaning as he attempted to sit up on his own. Evelyn rubbed at her eyes and jumped out of bed before she was fully coherent herself, running around to his side to help support him as he shifted. Her heart froze as she realized he was trying to get out of bed. Was he really so anxious to be out of her quarters? She’d yet to find anywhere else for him to go. Perhaps the surgeon’s tents would be the only other option. Maybe she could get a mattress moved down there so he wouldn’t have to sleep on the hard ground…

“Actually…” he began. “My apologies my dear but I really need to visit the washroom.”

“Oh,” she said, surprised. “Of course!”

He winced and groaned even more as she helped him across her quarters to the washroom door, but she couldn’t help but savor every moment she supported him across the room. He remained shirtless so that the bandage on his shoulder could be easily changed, and in order to guide him to the washroom she’d gotten to press herself against his bare skin, with one arm around his waist, and his good arm thrown over her shoulder. The sensation of his flexing muscles under her touch was thrilling, firing up thoughts that were completely inappropriate for the situation. Still, she sneaked a few long breaths of his sleepy morning scent, still feeling too timid to nuzzle deeply into him the way she wanted to.

As Cullen washed up, Evelyn sprinted around the room, using the few minutes of privacy to wash her face and comb her hair, changing into a fresh outfit of her own. When Cullen emerged and insisted he could walk back to the bed on his own, Evelyn planted herself against his body again and insisted that she was helping him whether he liked it or not.

He’d only laughed as he gave her shoulders an affectionate squeeze. His skin was warm and satiny smooth under her hand, flexing and tensing with a delicious strength. She deliberately tried to take each step across the room as slowly as possible.

She fed him breakfast in bed, then cleaned his stitches. When she finally climbed out of bed to take a pile a dishes back down to the kitchen, Cullen’s hand closed around her wrist.

“Wait,” he whispered, tugging her gently down to him. He still had said nothing more about moving to another location, and she was afraid to bring it up. But each time he went to speak, she braced herself for that exactly request. Surely he was considering the implications of his spending the night in her quarters by now, even if the people in Skyhold knew of his injury.

Evelyn waited, sure that this would be the moment. He raised his injured arm just enough to slide his fingers along her cheek, but he said nothing. Only watched her with an all-consuming warmth beaming from his eyes. Evelyn felt the breath leave her lungs as he urged her toward him, his lip curling into a smirk as his mouth got closer. She closed her eyes and let herself be kissed, a deep, slow kiss that tingled down her spine and curled her toes. Cullen’s tongue tasted of fresh mint, his face still clammy from where he’d splashed himself with water in the washroom.

She moaned quietly into his mouth, feeling her body buckle down onto the bed and settle in to allow him to linger as long as he desired. His fingertips brushed through her hair, combing errant strands away from her face.

When he ended it, she felt nearly intoxicated, her face plastered in a giddy grin.

“Thank you for everything you do Evie,” he sighed. If he was feeling any pain, he certainly wasn’t showing it. But he was also so far being a perfectly cooperative patient, doing exactly as she bid him to even when he seemed to be feeling minimal pain.

Still, a head injury was nothing to take lightly, and thankfully he seemed to understand that too.

Evelyn stood on wobbly knees, and felt the smile in her cheeks with every step down to the kitchen.

 

Day 3, Cullen’s soreness was unmistakable. A cloud of purplish yellow was beginning to creep below his hairline, bruising around and under his eye, and his shoulder looked positively gory. The surgeon came up to inspect it, but registered no concern.

“I told you it would get dark before it got better,” she reminded Evelyn. Still, Evelyn chewed her thumbnail, worrying over the pain that elicited all sorts of new groans from him as he tried to move. She kept a dose of the herbal pain killer within Cullen’s reach at all times, and this time took no joy in each trip back and forth to the washroom, as each staggering step only reminded her of his pain.

He ate little at lunch, and slept through the afternoon until she arrived just before sunset with a plate of roast beef and potatoes. The surgeon had left a new supply of bandages, which Evelyn attempted to change as he slept. He’d still mentioned nothing about moving, but had spent so little time conscious enough to discuss much of anything. Evelyn had no desire to move him while in this condition.

Carefully, she loosened the tape holding the bandage to the gash at his hairline, and tried to dab a warm, wet cloth around the sewn flesh. Despite his unconsciousness, Cullen flinched.

“No…. Leave me…” he growled. It was an angry order, stunning Evelyn into stillness. Cullen’s body tensed, his head rolled while his brow furrowed. Even in his sleep the man could frown so distinctly it was practically a snarl.

“Cullen?” Her voice was barely a whisper. She cleared her throat and spoke his name again. He gave no response.

“No…” he growled again, more forcefully. Could this be a dream? She’d thought Cassandra had mentioned something about nightmares once before, something relating his to his quitting lyrium. She’d asked him little about it beyond what he’d volunteered. It didn’t seem to be an easy subject for him to talk about, and she hadn’t wanted to pry.

“I’m here if you ever want to talk about it,” she’d offered him once. But he’d only thanked her and changed the subject. She hadn’t known whether that was because he simply hadn’t wanted to talk, or if it was too difficult. In either case it seemed better to let him decide to do it on his own.

As of yet, he hadn’t. The realization that there was so much to this man that she still didn’t know was humbling. Here she was fantasizing about distant futures by his side, even while she barely knew a fraction of the thoughts and memories that troubled his mind.

“Be gone…” He shuddered, his head jerking sharply. “ _Demon_ …”

Evelyn stood, taking several steps away from the bed and then turning to look down at him.

“Cullen?” she asked again, the hair on her arms standing on end. He couldn’t have been talking to her. It had to be a dream. She took a quiet step forward and laid the back of her hand on his forehead. He wasn’t feverish, in fact he was covered in a cold sweat.

But… _Demon?_

She’d already removed the old bandage on his head, but replacing it with the new one would have to wait. She didn’t want to do anything that might hurt, that might invade whatever nightmare was racking his brain and causing him such distress. She quietly replaced the supplies back on the bedside table and sat in the chair beside the bed, looking down at him worriedly. His chest was rising and falling in rapid, shallow breaths, a sheen of sweat shining off his pectorals. Even in distress the man was a picture of beauty, and Evelyn longed for nothing more than to put her arms around him, to soothe whatever memories and pain brought him such dreams.

But she could always just wake him. Her eyes scanned the room, falling for the first time on the full glass of water at his bedside. He apparently hadn’t touched it all day. The vial of painkiller she’d left there that morning was empty. He’d only had a very little to eat in many hours. He needed to wake so that he could eat, probably wash up a little.

Her hand was poised over his chest, preparing to try to gently nudge him awake when he startled awake by himself, his whole body jumping with such force that Evelyn jumped with him. Her heart leaped into her throat as she fell back into her chair, stunned.

Almost immediately after, he winced, his good arm going to his purpled shoulder.

“Maker’s breath,” he grumbled, before his eyes landed on Evelyn. The look on her face must have been more surprising than the pain from his injury. Cullen was immediately at attention, reaching for her hand.

“Evie? What? What is it?” he asked. She swallowed hard and opened her mouth to speak.

“You… I… nothing. I’m fine, Cullen. But you were… saying things,” she said. He nodded sadly and relaxed back into the bed. “Are you okay?”

She scooted the chair closer and leaned forward, picking up the wet cloth she’d used to try to clean his wound and instead dabbed at the sweat collecting on his chest. He sighed as his head dropped back on the pillow, his eyes falling closed in relief.

He picked up her hand and pulled it to his lips, brushing her fingers with light kisses.

“Yes. I’m okay. I’m sorry if I frightened you,” he said. “I have… dreams sometimes. Often, actually. You’ve been with me three nights now, I’m surprised this is the first you’ve heard. But I always wake, and I must say, waking next to you…” he squeezed his eyes closed and shook his heard, as though he was trying to shake the images out of his mind. Evelyn watched him, frozen in place, until his eyes opened again, and focused piercingly on her.

“Waking next to you is a considerable improvement over the emptiness of my own quarters,” he finished.

Despite the chill his sleeping words had given her, Evelyn couldn’t help but smile.

“Does this mean you don’t…” she started, and then clamped her mouth closed. This was the wrong time to bring it up. _How bloody insensitive, Evelyn!_

“What?” he asked. She shook her head and continued dabbing at his chest, and then offered him the glass of water, insisting that he take it. He emptied the glass obediently and then sat back, his eyes fixed intently upon her. Heat spread up her neck and bloomed over cheeks. Maker’s breath, was she ever going to stop blushing?

“Evie?” he asked as he took her hand.

“So, you really don’t mind that you’re here? I can still find you somewhere else…” She got the words out quickly, wishing she hadn’t brought it up to begin with. She should have been focusing on him, on changing his bandages, on soothing him after his nightmare, not on her own selfish desire to keep him close. Not if that’s not what he wanted too.

He grabbed her hand firmly and began massaging into the meat of her palms. His forehead still held a light sheen of sweat and the purple around his eyes made him look deeply tired. She reached her other hand out to cup his cheek.

“Where else would I get such great care as right here with you?” he asked with a gentle smirk.

“Oh, I’d still be there. Wherever ‘there’ happened to be. Until you’re well.”

“Yes, I heard you say that to Cassandra. Evie… the war doesn’t stop just because I took a rock to the head—”

“It does for me…” she said sheepishly. “But I am sorry if I overstepped… if you would have preferred to be somewhere else, so that people didn’t _know_ …”

He squeezed her hand again, bringing her fingers up to his lips.

“People would have found out eventually anyway,” he said. “What does it matter if it’s now or several months down the road?”

Evelyn felt the smile taking over her face, the burn in her face flaring hot as she considered the meaning of his words. Several months down the road? That could only mean that he was imagining their future too, and that he believed they _would_ have one. Evelyn sighed contentedly, feeling her cheeks begin to ache as she soaked in his gaze. She leaned in to kiss his brow, remembering his long sleep, his nightmare, that his body still needed food. As much as she might have wished he’d stay right here forever, the better thing for him, for them all, was for him to get better. Get him on his feet and feeling strong again. She sighed as she rose from the bed and floated toward the table that held the now cold bowl of stew. 

"The kitchen made lamb tonight,” she said as she took slow steps across the room.

“Whatever you've brought will be perfect,” he answered.

 

On day 4, Cullen was out of bed, the previous day’s aches apparently long forgotten. Evelyn woke at the sound of Cullen closing the washroom door behind him, no longer needing her assistance to cross the room. She rubbed at her sore muscles, kneading at the crick in her neck that screamed out in protest at the uncomfortable sofa she’d been sleeping on. She’d been trying to be good. After they’d eaten dinner the night before, she and Cullen had stayed up talking, with Cullen’s nearly seven hour stretch of sleep during the day keeping him awake long into the night.

He’d confessed that he wouldn’t have been as good of a patient for any other caretaker but her. That every day he wanted to throw on his clothes and go tend to the reports he was sure were piling up in his office, go make sure the new recruits weren’t slacking in their practice, or mistreating their equipment. That he was tired of being poked and prodded by the surgeon every time she came in to check on his wounds. _Just bring me a mirror and I can do it myself,_ he’d said. _It’s feeling a lot better, much better than it looks,_ he’d said.

But then he added that if he’d known that a simple injury would have given him 3 days holed up alone — or mostly alone— with the Inquisitor, he would have faked an injury long ago.

“How long ago?” she’d asked, trying to suppress the giddiness that made her want to get up and dance.

“Probably within the first week of knowing you.”

 

Kissing followed. Passionate kissing, followed by roaming hands and a fire in her blood she’d never known before. Cullen’s lips were possibly the most perfect thing she’d ever tasted, and she’d perched herself carefully in his lap, cradling his face gently while she’d explored his mouth for what felt like an hour, tangling tongues and delving as deeply as she could manage to reach. He sighed and wrapped his strong arms around her, enveloping her in his scent, his warmth, his pounding heart so palpable it nearly overpowered her own.

She’d wanted more. _He_ wanted more, she could feel the truth of that even through the blanket over his lap.

But he was still injured, despite how much better he was feeling. His long sleep earlier in the day was proof of that. Evelyn didn’t think she’d be able to control herself if they let things go too far. If they were worried about people talking already, she could only imagine how his mysteriously re-injuring himself late at night while alone with her in her quarters would make things worse.

And now, morning. More sprinting around the room, trying to freshen herself up after a long night day and night tending to Cullen. The one thing she hadn’t counted on when she’d ordered him into her quarters was that… well that he’d _always_ be in her quarters. If she wanted to change or clean up, spend a little time in the mirror trying to make herself look pretty, he’d be right there for all of it. Luckily, he took his time in the washroom, combing his hair back into place, cleaning his teeth and freshening his breath. Even when his body was dragging noticeably he’d still reemerge smelling clean and looking healthier, more alert and put together.

But still, Evelyn rushed through her own routine, knowing that at any moment he could open the door and be right there with her. There was no hiding the pile of laundry that was building up. The multiple glasses that she knew she couldn't carry down all at once, so she hadn't even tried. The sacks of food that she brought up to have handy, so she didn’t always have to run down three floors and across the length of Skyhold to fetch her or Cullen something to eat. She decided to shrug it off. Cullen understood that these were extenuating circumstances. She was preoccupied with helping him get well, not with keeping her room spotlessly clean. Still, she couldn’t help the self-consciousness as she looked around, and once dressed herself she continued with her frantic movements, trying to at least organize the room somewhat.

She was taking a deep breath at the balcony when she heard him come out this time, and instead of returning to the bed, he joined her as he peered down the railing into the distant Skyhold courtyard. He’d slipped on a loose tunic that covered his wounded shoulder, and had apparently removed the bandage from his head. One warm hand slid around her waist, pulling her close.

“Good morning,” he crooned as he peppered her temple in kisses. “I’m almost sad to report that I will be making a visit to the office. See in what kind of a state Jim has left my desk.”

Disappointment made her shoulders droop, but she’d been expecting this very thing. Cassandra had tried to bet her that he’d try to be back to work on the second day. But he’d made it four.

“It will be a short workday for you though. At the first sign of pain or tiredness you are to return to my care immediately. Inquisitor’s orders,” she said matter-of-factly.

“What, you mean you aren’t ready to have your own bed back?” He was joking, his eyes bright. The color had returned to his cheeks. He beamed down at her with a blinding force.

Evelyn cast her eyes down as she bit her lip. “Actually…” she shrugged teasingly, “I was sort of hoping you might want to spend a little more time in my bed.”

Cullen snorted, squeezing at her waist.

“Well… _I_ was sort of hoping that any more time I spent in your bed wouldn’t be because I am your patient…” he laid a light kiss on her lower lip, his thumb gently cradling her chin, “but maybe for other reasons…”

“Yes…” Evelyn began, losing her train of thought as he came in for another kiss.

“But I am sure I will have another headache coming on before too long. In fact, I am certain there will be one right around sunset. A bad one, too, necessitating my skilled caretaker’s personal, _undivided_ attention.”

Evelyn crooned a blissful sigh and melted against his chest as his arms closed around her. He was using his injured arm without noticeable pain, able to reach and stretch without more than a slight wince. When his hair was freshly damp and combed, you could hardly see the little break in his hairline where the stitches were. It was growing clearer and clearer that this time together was coming to a close. Probably after this last night, provided Cullen endured his backlogged work without too much exhaustion, things would go back to how they used to be.

At least, for the most part.

Evelyn tried her best not to think of the Exalted Plains. Maybe she’d postpone it a day or two anyway, just to be safe. Or maybe it would be better just to go and get it over with, so she could return home as soon as possible. After four days of basking in her love’s company, the thought of venturing out to a cold, distant land was wearying. No, if there was any possibility this might be their last night in her quarters, at least until things had advanced between them more, then she would savor every single second of it.

“I will make sure your caretaker has her schedule cleared, and your recovery quarters are well-stocked, Commander,” Evelyn said.


End file.
